


Life Itself

by cherryblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: 1980s, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Injury, Drugs, F/M, Feminization, Homophobic Language, M/M, Pain Kink, Past Abuse, Sexual Content, Summer, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/cherryblur
Summary: Tyler breathes discontent and Josh lives in a dream.They both strive to live through the summer of ‘85.





	Life Itself

**Author's Note:**

> please read the tags

“Oh, baby,” He coos, soft and lilting. “I pity whoever did this to you, really.” 

Tyler lays flat on his back. Spread-eagle and splayed out so perfectly.  
Blood oozes from his nose and finds its way to the pavement cracks below him in a stream running down his cheek. 

He wishes a damn car would come already. 

“I wouldn’t,” He replies. Josh stands over him and peeks at him comically. He seems bored. 

“You look like shit,” He finally decides. 

Tyler shrugs. He does. A swollen black eye, a split lip and countless bruises are what he’s been gifted. Not to mention a really prominent boner that cinches the horrid deal. 

“You pay someone to do this?” Josh cracks his bubblegum with his teeth and it matches his hair. 

“Nah.”  
Tyler just pokes and prods at strangers until he’s pressed face-down on a filthy bar floor with a knee in his back and a moan on his lips. 

Josh squints. “Sloppy job, really. Didn’t even get you off?” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. 

Tyler shakes his head again and he starts to itch from being on the road for so long. His too-small t-shirt rides up and shows the bruising around his stomach and hips.  
Strong men get angry faster. 

“Yikes,” Josh lights a cigarette and blows smoke down onto his form.  
“Want me to like, step on your balls or something?” 

Tyler grimaces. “No. That’s weird.” 

“You’re weird,” Josh spits his gum out by his shoes. “You get hard from being punched by dudes.” 

“And you suck dick to pay your rent,” Tyler lifts his head and lowers it back onto the manhole cover it lays upon. “Go away, Josh.” 

He watches the sky turn magnificent colors above him and frowns in the summer heat. 

“How’re you gonna fix that then?” Josh asks again, finger pointing lazily at his crotch. 

“Time,” He answers.

Josh sticks his cigarette back into his mouth and takes a loud drag through his teeth. “Sucks, man.”

His whole life sucks, man.

He’s been stuck in this town, this wretched dirtball of a place he calls home for far too long. He feels like he’s the only one who thinks this way, though. And it’s stupid.

Josh waves a couple cars past them with two manicured fingers. His nails match his hair.  
Feels like everything matches his hair.

”So,” He drawls, and a few ashes from his cigarette fall onto Tyler’s shirt. “You gonna keep laying there like a dumbass or come inside and get some lemonade?”

Tyler feels like a teenager caught watching porn when he stands, shaky and numb from the steaming road. He just takes his shirt off and catches Josh’s eyes flick down for a split second.

”Up here, sweetie,” He says cheekily, tapping a finger against the swollen skin of his eye. Josh rolls his and gives him the finger.

”What, you think I’m a faggot?” He asks when they’re crossing the dry patchy front lawn of their house. He doesn’t hold the screen door for Tyler.

”I wouldn’t fuck you even if my entire life depended on it,” He continues when they’re finally in air conditioning, cool and cheap and barely working because they live in the ghetto and Josh can hardly afford to buy himself cigarettes and bubblegum.

”I think the feeling’s mutual,” Tyler answers casually. He looks stupid with a big line of dried blood slung across his face like war paint. Josh throws a damp dishrag at him and pours him a glass of lemonade.

He’s pressing the glass to his aching cheek before he drinks it, only because he knows it’s 90% water and 10% dollar-store powdered flavoring that’s been expired for three years.

At least it’s cold.

”Tyler Junior still looks pretty happy,” Josh observes. “You got one of those diseases? Where your dick just stays like that?”

Tyler mutters a ‘fuck you’ and crosses his legs. He sits in a mismatched chair and leans on the squeaky table sat square in the middle of the kitchen.

It’s quite an ugly house, all in all, but it’s home to them and many other crackheads that come and go, so they don’t bellyache too much.

”You been working?” Josh asks with a thumbnail in his mouth. He’s got this thing for eating paint.  
When his mom was alive she’d tell Tyler all these stories about hospital visits because Josh would eat the lead paint off his bedroom walls.

Him and all the other kids that actually did die from doing it. Sometimes Tyler thinks that’s why he’s so stupid.

“Nah,” He says. “Got fired. They were tired of me coming in looking like this.”

”Hard?”

He sighs through his nose. “Beat up.”

Josh nods like it’s something new. “Ah, right, right.” He pulls a pack of Hubba Bubba from his back pocket and hisses at his last piece.

”What is it?” He asks through the sugar. “About getting beat up that makes you so..” He gestures to Tyler’s entire body.  
Very funny.

Tyler leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his (already broken out) face. “Dunno. Don’t really wanna talk about it anymore, though.”

”Fine. You got a girlfriend?”

He shakes his head.

”Gay?”

He shrugs. “Maybe? Why d’you care?”

Josh grins ear to ear with gum sticking between his teeth. “Mark owes me twenty bucks.”

”AND I’m gonna tell everyone you’re a fag.”

Tyler yawns. “Yeah? I’m gonna tell everyone you _pretend_ to be gay because you’re an attention whore.” Then he’s sitting with crossed arms while Josh’s face heats up.

He has his mouth open, but the words don’t come fast enough because Jenna is stomping downstairs with her hair in a frazzled mess. A man’s voice is heard upstairs muttering nonsensical curses.  
She scans the room and clicks her tongue.

”Tyler, why’s your dick hard?”

•

The next day Josh comes out in a pair of daisy dukes and heart-shaped sunglasses. Tyler is face-down shirtless and feels his skin sizzle in the afternoon heat. He doesn’t bother to look up.

”You got a nice ass,” Josh tells him. He stands with a hip cocked out, maybe because those shorts are so high-waisted and tight he’s stuck in that position. His own ass is so exposed it’s probably visible to the whole neighborhood by now.

Tyler’s just wearing jeans, which is weird in 80 degree weather.

He peeks at him with his one good eye. Josh has shaved his legs.  
“What’re you gay for me, bud?”

He gets spit on and hears a laugh mixed with bare feet finally crunching onto the grass of their lawn across the street.

He snorts and no one ever tells him to get out of the road.

•

”Tyler, you got road rash all over you, baby,” Is what Jenna says during the next week when Tyler walks through their door, red and sunburnt and aching.

He’s stayed out for days, only returning when the sun has finally set and it starts to get chilly.  
He doesn’t reply and instead heads for the stairs.

”Hey,” Jenna catches him by the shoulder and he hisses in pain. “Look at me when I’m talking t’you, understand? What the fuck are you doing out there?”

Tyler turns around and his teeth strip his bottom lip of whatever healthy skin it had left.  
“Waiting for a car to hit me, I guess.” He stares into a pair of pretty blue eyes and wonders why Jenna allows herself to have such a shitty boyfriend.

She scowls. “Shut the fuck up and go sit down. I’m getting the aloe lotion. Josh, make him a couple ice packs, will you?”  
Josh slides down from his seat on the kitchen counter and rolls his eyes at Tyler.

”He’s doin’ it for attention, you know that right,” He deadpans and Tyler shifts on his feet.

Jenna kisses his cheek. “You do a lot of things for attention, Josh.” And she’s gone in a whirlwind of blonde hair. Tyler smells strawberries.  
Josh huffs and fills a dishrag with ice.

When she comes back Tyler is sat in front of their broken air conditioner with the ice pack against his stomach. Josh pops bubbles with his gum and leans against the counter again.  
Tyler notices the shorts he’s wearing and can’t ever decide how on earth that boy could fit into something so tight and not have any dick outline at all.

Must be magic. Or really uncomfortable.

”Can I do it?” He pipes up when Jenna pops the lid off the aloe vera lotion. She cocks her head at him, debating.

He stands on his tiptoes, tongue just barely poking between his lips.  
Some could call it cute.

”Fuckin’ queer,” Tyler mutters, and he then hears long strides until a hand is smacking his left shoulder blade with a sickening crack of skin against skin. It leaves a burning white handprint and he yowls.

”Josh-!” Jenna’s voice is drowned out too easy.

Josh takes the brunette’s chin between his rosy pink fingernails.  
“You call me that again and I’ll cut your dick off, pretty boy. Hear me?”

Tyler spits at him.

Josh just laughs and kisses him stupid and sloppy. It’s all sweat and fever.  
He yanks Tyler back by his hair and earns himself a well-mannered moan from the pain he inflicted.  
When he pulls back he’s licking over his teeth with a glare.  
“Queer indeed,” And he’s gone before Tyler can really process much of what just happened.

His mouth tastes like bubblegum.

”Tempermental boy, he is,” Jenna sighs and finally stands. Her fingers are cool and calming when they massage into his raw skin.  
“No more laying in the street. At all. Not ‘til this is healed. Got it?”

Tyler’s got it. Many many times.

•

He hates sleeping in this house.  
Someone’s always fucking, or partying or high on hard drugs and just fucking _loud._

Guess that’s the price to pay when he lives in a crackhouse.

Right now the sound of the hour is the rhymthic thumping of Jenna’s headboard against the wall that’s keeping Tyler awake on this fine 3 am morning. He barely even knows the name of her current boyfriend, but he seems like an asshole.  
Plus he’s way too annoying in the sack.

He tries not to mind it, but the thoughts that run through his head are all but sleep.  
If they weren’t making so many noises, he could pretend the banging was just the air conditioner shitting out on them again.

So he’s stepping downstairs, pillow in tow because he’s determined to get at least an hour of sleep.  
He’s not hard, thank God. Stuff like that doesn’t turn him on.

 _Only hot guys kicking you in the face,_ he hears Josh’s mocking voice in his head.

He’s as naked as he could get, on account of the road rash and sunburn steaming his skin every time he sat down. His boxers cling to him like a prison, but he’s not about to go to bed commando.  
Unfortunately, Josh has no issue with that.

”Hey, sweet cheeks,” He greets when Tyler steps into the living room. It’s dingy, covered in dirty dishes and random trash.  
Smells like the carpet crunching beneath his feet could definitely use a good wash, as well.

Josh is seated on the far right couch against the wall, with a pair of what he recognizes as Jenna’s underwear on.  
So THAT’S how he could fit into those daisy dukes.

His legs are shaven clean, the only other thing covering his body being a worn-out hoodie. But it leaves far too much for the imagination.

Tyler stands with his pillow looking like a frazzled child until Josh waves him over.

”I don’t bite,” He snickers. “I know you’d probably like that though, huh?” And there’s that shitty grin he always has on, even at ass o’clock in the morning.

”I’m tired,” Tyler says half-heartedly. “Please, jus’ lemme sleep, Josh.”

”Aw,” Josh’s smile drops into a pout. “C’mere baby, you can snuggle next to me.”

The brunette is shuffling blindly until his knees hit the couch, then he’s slumped down in the fortress of blankets covering the damn thing.  
He already starts to sweat.

Josh slides up closer to him and runs his fingers through greasy chestnut curls.  
“Jenna and Zack going at it again?” He assumes.

Tyler nods. He closes his eyes, because it actually feels good to have his hair played with instead of tugged from his scalp.  
He’s leaning on Josh’s chest before he truly realizes what’s going on and it’s a good warm.

”Shh. S’okay,” Josh murmurs. The faint light from the TV makes them glow and Tyler feels this is the coziest he’s been in at least three years.

”We’re all a little gay sometimes, huh?” Is what he hears before sleep finally, finally takes over his restless mind.

•

Tyler wakes up to a camera shutter.

”My two favorite boyfriends,” Comes next, and when he opens his eyes Jenna is standing with a banana yellow camera.  
Shit.

”What th’fuck?” He blinks, shakes his head and tries to sit up but Josh has got him in a protective hold. And he’s still dead asleep.

”This is going in the family photo album,” Jenna decides when the Polaroid prints itself. She shakes it and sets it on the windowsill. She’s just as messy as the other two, all tangled hair and rarity of clothes.

Josh stirs when he feels the pull against his arms and Tyler is rolled away from his embrace, face smashing into the sour smell of the couch because he’s a little guy and Josh was his anchor.

”Joshh.” He spits out a hair caught on his lip and sits up. Jenna tells him he still looks like shit. Josh tells him he’s making coffee.

”What time is it?” He mumbles. He’s using a blanket as a robe because in all honesty he doesn’t want Jenna to see his scrawny little body after last night. Zack’s a very strong man who could snap him in half without batting an eye and that’s something he’s learned to live with throughout the years. (By live with he definitely doesn’t mean jerking off to the thought of Jenna’s boyfriend beating the shit out of him.)

Jenna pops an ibuprofen with an old can of 7Up. “Almost 2:00. Welcome back to earth, bud.”

Tyler finds a stray cigarette on the coffee table and flicks Josh’s hot pink lighter until he’s blowing smoke out his nose.  
It calms his shaking nerves because he hasn’t smoked in weeks. He really didn’t know he needed it until now, and when Josh comes back with a chipped mug full of dime-store coffee he doesn’t refuse.

”Tastes awful,” He mumbles and drinks it anyway. Josh kisses his scratchy cheek.

”Put extra dirt in it for you, darlin’,” He hums. He’s pulling on a pair of skinny jeans and those stupid pink heart sunglasses before Tyler can finish his cigarette.

”I’m going out,” He declares, hoodie tossed away to reveal the t-shirt Tyler remembers losing a few weeks ago. It’s still got blood stains on it.

”Get me some more weed,” Jenna calls from the kitchen because she knows where Josh is going to go.

Brendon’s house. The local drug dealer-turned-friend who Josh lets fuck him so they can all satisfy their own addictions for a few weeks more.  
It’s troubling and dangerous but Tyler needs more Xanax.

Josh blows him a kiss and walks out through the back door.

The brunette sits like a confused dog, in his blanket fortress and burnt out cigarette still stuck between his fingers.  
_Get up,_ his body says. _Time to party._

A small part of him doesn’t want to go out tonight. Only because he’s already healed fully, but he hasn’t had a good fuck since the last time Josh found him face-down in the 7/11 bathroom, and that couldn’t have been more than three weeks ago, at least.

Alcohol just makes it easier to walk up to strangers and piss them off, anyways. He gets cockier than usual, if that’s even possible.  
The only problem standing in his way is that booze is a rarity in the house. It’s gone as soon as it arrives.

He’s broke as hell, but he thinks that if he can schmooze as many guys (or girls) as he can, he might just be able to get shitfaced before 8:00.

At least, that’s the plan he’s got so far.

Jenna and Zack are still sat around the breakfast table when Tyler finally gets himself off the couch and stumbles up to his room at 3:30. They don’t give him a passing glance.

It’s hard to pick clothes that are eye-catching. He’s not boring, just..unamused.  
He’s definitely not Josh, who can make just about anything turn into a slut outfit.  
Plus, Tyler’s just not that slutty in general.

But it’s a pair of leather skinnies and a white wife beater tank that finally cinches the deal for him. He doesn’t look half bad, he thinks. Maybe it’s just the cracked mirror playing tricks on him.

He wishes he had asked Josh for more Xanax, because in his mind mixing a couple pops of those with drinks AND a good fucking is quite possibly the best way to spend his lonely Tuesday night.  
He wonders when Josh is coming back.

•

It’s 6:30 when he leaves, and Josh still hasn’t returned. Mark came back from his ‘friend’s’ house high as shit, so Tyler took that as a sign he should probably go.  
Mark was incredibly violent when on drugs and Tyler didn’t exactly _like-like_ him.

He shivers when his shoes hit the cement steps outside their house. It’s calming. The sun is slowly starting to set, and casts beautiful oranges and reds over his freckled shoulders as he makes his way down the sidewalk.

None of them drive. It’s healthy, of course, walking everywhere, but it’s mostly because cars are just too damn expensive.  
Tyler is the only one who knows how to drive anyways.

He gets stares when he finally reaches the establishment part of town. Most aren’t exactly the kindest of glances.

Maybe it’s the way his tattoos shine through almost too boldly, in rigid lines and boxes across his arms. Maybe it’s the shiny leather clinging to his thighs.  
Either way he gets called a faggot more times than he can count.

And if it’s not that, it’s catcalls.  
According to Josh, Tyler had three things that gay men could ‘dig’.  
They were as follows:  
- _“A damn good ass, that’s for sure.”_  
- _”Cute face. For a dude.”_  
- _”Nice dick? Just guessing, man.”_

Tyler didn’t think he really had any of those.  
His ass wasn’t mind-blowing, he didn’t think anyone would appreciate his zit-covered mug, and he definitely didn’t think his dick was all Josh cracked it up to be.

The condoms stashed in his back pocket crinkle when he pushes the bar door open with his foot.

•

”Oh, _shit_.”

Tyler’s found a good one.

He’s pressed against a filthy wall he knows too well. His hands scrabble against the tiles and he gasps because Jesus, the guy behind him doesn’t really know limits very well.

”Harder,” Is what he says in retaliation to the digging fingers that squeeze his hips. The other set are preoccupied elsewhere.

He doesn’t need to be stretched, he tries to say, but all that comes out is “I d-unngh,” because he’s being finger-fucked way too rough and honestly it doesn’t feel that bad.

His voice sounds like shit, only because minutes ago he was scraping his knees on the bathroom floor with a dick halfway down his throat.  
Tyler likes to say he’s sort of an expert at oral sex.

Now he’s resting his sweaty forehead against an even sweatier wall and wondering if anyone’s walked in yet to the sound of low grunts and cracked whimpers.  
He’s drunk, shitfaced, even. The guy sticking his dick in him now bought him so many drinks he’s a little scared that one of them might’ve been laced with something.

Either way the thoughts running through his mind are only _addsdhfjd_ because he’s being used and slammed against the wall over and over, just like he asked, no holds barred.

Tyler isn’t a whore, but the dude bruising him to pieces in the bathroom of his favorite grungy bar likes to think he is by the way he talks.

He tells him to “beg for his cock” but all Tyler can manage are pitched whines and _“pleasepleaseplease.”_ It’s sort of pathetic.

Honestly Tyler’s talking just to breathe now. He came untouched five minutes ago with a squeal when his hair was pulled so hard he felt it start to slowly give in and snap against this guy’s grip.

He hears something being growled about how fat his ass is, and all he can think about is what Josh said that afternoon when he was laying in the street.

He’s just tingly and humping the air because he’s drunker than he should be and he’s also pretty sure the condoms in his discarded jeans weren’t even touched.  
He drools against the cool wall and gives feeble moans as a response to keep the dude going.

”Touch me,” He begs and gets no relief.  
He wants the pain of overstimulation, but no one seems to want to give it to him.

Then he’s left with a half chub and tear tracks on his cheeks when he’s gifted with come in his ass and bruises lining his hips all the way down.

He doesn’t even get a goodbye kiss.  
Of course he doesn’t, his brain reminds him.  
Things like being gay weren’t something to just out yourself upon. But he wasn’t gay.

Just curious.

But now’s not the time to ponder about his sexuality because he’s about to fall into unconsciousness when he has nothing more to lean on and is slinking to the floor in a heap of sweat and trembling thighs.  
He moves slow and curls his legs toward him so he’s not completely exposed.

He wishes he could call Josh.

Instead he sits in the open handicapped stall, eyes closed and fingers dragging over the lump of his swollen cheek.  
He loves getting shoved against walls hard enough to shatter his teeth and bust his nose open. But don’t tell anyone.

Then it’s the shame hour, where Tyler trips and stumbles when he yanks his jeans back on and grimaces at the way his tank sticks to his wet body.  
He’s disheveled, hair tousled to one side and red cheeks spreading his blush all the way down to his aching hips. He’s pretty sure there’s dried spit covering his chin but that can’t possibly be the worst thing about him right now.

He limps and whines because his body was just getting used to being NORMAL again, then he had to go and fuck himself up. He wonders if Josh came back from Brendon’s yet when he’s pushing the bar door open with a squeak.

It’s a long walk home, to say the least.

•

Tyler hears Josh’s voice when he’s home, and it makes his heart swell.

He’s using the wall to hold himself up, shaking fingers dragging along the cigarette-smoke stained plaster. Josh sits looking dazed on the couch and Jenna and Zack are nowhere to be found. Mark is passed out on the kitchen table.

Brendon’s here, though.

”Hey.” He tries. Josh looks over at him and giggles with his big cheesy grin.

”Hi baby!” He squeaks, stretching slow and careful. “C’mere, lemme touch you.”

His voice is rough, which gives Tyler the impression that he was either sleeping or giving Brendon a blowjob in order to fulfill the drug orders he so desperately needed.

Either way he’s high as hell and smells like weed when Tyler sits himself on his lap.  
“Smell like booze,” Josh has his own observations and kisses his hair. “You been fucking around?”

”Jus’ one,” Tyler shifts himself so that he’s finally comfortable. His boxers stick to him and he grimaces. Josh presses his lips under his black eye.

He slurs something about being able to hurt him better. Then they’re sleeping with foreheads touching and hands cautious.

Tyler decides he should try to be Josh’s friend.

•

“Dude. Your nose should NOT look like that.”

Tyler’s really trying to kill himself.

It’s two weeks later when he wrenches himself from Josh’s grasp and goes to the bar again.

He came stumbling in at 4 am, broken and bloody and truly within an inch of his life because his big fat mouth really fucked him big time.

Instead of a usual bloody nose or black eye after drunken, snide comments at the bar, he’s taken to a back alley and bloodied to a pulp by a gang he never should’ve messed with in the first place.

Apparently he called the ring leader a fag and tried to fight him with his bare fists. He doesn’t remember much.

Josh has him sat on the couch with a granola bar stuck in his dirty hands just so he has something to hold.  
“Look like you’re gonna blow away, sweetheart, you gotta eat something,” Is what he’d said.

”You’re lucky I know my way around a med kit,” He clucks now, like a fretful mother as his fingers dig through band-aids and antiseptic cream to find the sutures.

Tyler watches him dumbly and doesn’t say a word. The gash under his eye still weeps and he hopes it covers the tears mingling with it. Everything fucking hurts.

”Why d’you do this?” Josh asks and Tyler can faintly see the glittery lip gloss still smeared on his lips.

He inspects the wounds on his skin and cleans them the best he can. They’re much too close when he dabs a wet dishrag underneath Tyler’s bloody nose.  
He’d kiss him if he had the courage. Or stupidity.

”I mean, I know it’s your weird..kink thing.” Josh gestures to the brunette’s crotch. (Where a boner was very happy to stand out.)  
“What was your childhood like? Got some abusive daddy issues or something?”

Tyler stains a cigarette with his split lip and puffs carefully. “Nah. More like teenage hormone issues,” He laughs and his ribs feel like they’ve snapped.

”Elaborate,” Josh hums. He’s slathering antiseptic and band-aids all over the minor cuts scattered about his face and hands. There are more in other places but those will heal on their own. Forcefully.

”I had a bully,” Tyler licks the iron off his bottom lip. “He liked to play games with me.”

Josh frowns and starts to line the sutures. He tells him to grit his teeth because it will hurt.  
The reply is more laughter.

”He’d beat the shit out of me, then fuck me.”  
Tyler swallows. Josh searches his eyes.

”It’s not as weird as it sounds,” The brunette promises with a roll of his eyes. “I liked it. He just liked it a little more than me sometimes.”

”Sounds like more of an abusive boyfriend to me, Tyler.”

Tyler shrugs. “We never did anything more than that, though, so I wouldn’t say ‘boyfriend.’”

Josh is still confused.

”No one wants to get outed as gay, Josh,” He scoffs. “I just learned how to keep my mouth shut.”

Josh scowls and ignores his comment. “Why not be outed? There are tons of gay celebrities. Like Freddie Mercury just came out as bisexual,” He says matter-of-factly.

Tyler clicks his tongue. “Freddie Mercury is _gay_ and he also has AIDS. I don’t think I’d have the balls to admit even one of those things.”

Josh laughs at him and asks if he has AIDS. Then gets a kick to the shin.

”You know what I mean,” He grumbled.

Josh continues his nurse duties and his face turns into a look of wonder again.

”So anyways, this pain thing, it’s like some sorta fucked-up Pavlovian response? You get beat up and then you’re horny?” Josh ponders this. Then gets cutting the suture ties and placing a pretty blue band-aid over it all because it compliments Tyler’s skin.

”Sure. When I wanted it, it was pretty good,” Tyler fizzles his cigarette out on the coffee table and yawns. “It all stopped after he graduated, so it doesn’t matter anymore.”

”When did it start?”

”Freshman year.” He blinks but stares at his feet. Josh’s facial expression fades darker and darker until he’s pale.

”And what grade was he in?”

Tyler has a sudden interest in his fingernails.  
“Mine.”

Josh makes a choked noise in the back of his throat.  
He stares in utter shock. ”You were raped for four _years_ , Tyler. That’s wasn’t just a bully.”  
Tyler squeezes his eyes shut at the word _rape_.  
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Josh is there now, close and sad and pitiful. And _This_ is why he wasn’t told.

”It wasn’t important. It still isn’t important, and I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, okay?”

Josh opens his mouth to say more.  
Tyler shakes his head and presses a hand on his (still hard) dick. “Go to bed, Josh. You look like shit.”

•

Tyler lays in the street again. He missed it, really.

His tank top catches on the asphalt below him, warm and inviting. He might just take a nap.  
Josh hasn’t talked to him. He feels a little bad. He shouldn’t though, because it wasn’t his business and it’s really, really not important anymore.

His eyes are just starting to close when a familiar face is peeking over his with a dumb pair of heart sunglasses hooked over his gauged ears.

”Jenna says if you don’t come inside she’s gonna kick your ass,” He says like a whiny sibling.

Tyler snorts and sits up. The cigarette stuck behind his ear makes its way into his mouth and he blows smoke into Josh’s face. “Tell her to eat my dick, I’m not going inside.” Then he laughs.

Josh walks off in a pair of leggings stuck beneath shorts that are no doubt meant for women. Tyler watches him leave for a little too long.

He smokes in the road, lets the sun beam down upon him and burn blisters onto his shoulders because he needs something to keep him grounded.  
Then the screen door slams open and a pair of Walmart brand flip flops are slapping against the sidewalk. And Tyler gets a smack on the head.

”I’m a fucking adult, Jennifer,” He spits onto the asphalt and Jenna drags him back inside kicking and arguing. Zack laughs at him when the cold air hits his face in the kitchen.

He’s pissed, really. Jenna isn’t his mom, nor is she in any sort of place where she could tell him what to do.  
And yet he always finds himself listening to her.

”Go sit down. Apologize to Josh, God damn it. You’re such a prick sometimes, Tyler.” Jenna’s jaw is set and Tyler flushes like an embarrassed child but he turns and heads for the living room _slowly_.

Josh sits cross-legged with a blush high on his cheeks from the humid summer weather. He’s in the middle of painting his fingernails a new coat of his signature pink.

”Um.” Is the sentence starter Tyler’s wonderful brain thinks up.

Josh doesn’t look back at him. “You don’t have to say sorry. Nothing’s your fault.” He chews on his lip because his stubby nails are so hard to get perfect.

Tyler thinks they look beautiful.

He sits carefully on the edge of the couch next to Josh, timid and dull. God, this boy would be the death of him, really.  
“Why pink?” He finally asks.

”It’s outrageous,” Josh answers. “Everything I do is to piss society off. Cliché, innit?” Then he’s capping the almost empty bottle of polish and sighing.

”I like it,” Tyler says.

And it’s quiet. So, so quiet. The fan above their heads and the rattling air conditioner are the only speakers of the house. Tyler heard Jenna and Zack head outside minutes ago.  
She probably knew this would happen, he thinks.

Their eyes study each other, a bit confused really. Josh tries to find the hurt and Tyler tries to find the love.

He moves a tad closer, experimentally.  
He wouldn’t want to smudge Josh’s nail polish.

But it seems it doesn’t matter now, because he’s weak in the knees when Josh scoffs and takes his face in his palms awkwardly.  
The kiss is the best Tyler’s ever had, though.

Josh still tastes like bubblegum. It’s sweet and soft and utterly perfect, because Tyler hasn’t ever kissed anyone out of love before. He decides it’s his favorite type.

”What’re you, a fag?” He smirks when they’re broken apart, just a tad redder than before. Josh rolls his eyes and steals the cigarette stuck behind his ear.

”Only for you, snookums.”  
And Tyler thinks he’s fallen hard now.

•

Tyler spends the whole next day on the couch. He stays inside, which appeases Jenna, and best of all he stays inside with _Josh_.  
Josh, who kisses his forehead and lets him be the little spoon, who cards his fingers through his hair until he sleeps peacefully for as long as he wants.

Yes, Tyler might be a little gay for Josh, it seems.

He hopes it stays that way.

•

”You know, I might date you,” He says one day while fanning himself with one of Jenna’s cheap magazines. They all sweat since the air conditioner finally broke for good that morning.

”If you weren’t such an asshole.”

Josh snorts at him, takes up half the couch with his body and lets his legs rest on Tyler’s lap.  
His hair is tied up in a bun, with straggling curls poking out around his face like a veil. Tyler is mesmerized.

”You and all the other dudes. What’s the real excuse, babe? Don’t want anyone to know you get it up the ass?” He stretches, the tank top he wears riding up and untucking itself from his shorts. Tyler stares like a doofus.

”Shut up,” Is all he can muster because he hates this boy so much. Josh’s toes wiggle in his lap and he laughs in his face.

”I’m just kiddin’, baby doll. We all accept your life decisions,” He yawns and gives Tyler a side eyed glance. “ _Most_ of the time.”

Tyler tells him to stop calling him nicknames and wants to bury himself in all the blankets Josh piled on them stupidly.

The ceiling fan above them creates more of the conversation that they’re too scared to touch.

•

Tyler has an identity crisis a day after and he drinks so much at their local nightclub he doesn’t remember how many dicks he took up the ass or in his mouth that night.  
Josh watches him with an almost betrayed look when he limps up to his bedroom the next morning.

•

Tyler feels himself slipping.

•

Tonight, it’s Josh’s birthday.

And tonight, Tyler is absolutely shitfaced.  
Their welfare check came in last week, so now he can afford to buy himself drinks and waste his liver away even _faster_.

He can’t believe it’s only June, and voices it to no one because he’s slurring and wobbling, hands trying to keep himself up on the bar counter in front of him. He can’t find Josh in the sea of people around him.

Eveyone’s touching. He feels hands grope him in places and he snaps at random guys (and girls!) who try to cop a fistful of his ass.  
Him and his ass, he thinks. Josh was right.

He’s giggling, out of the crowd and leaned against the wall finally, ready to search for his pretty bubblegum birthday boy.  
He wants to find him and give him more kisses, he wants to grin and touch and maybe even get Josh to fuck him.

God, that would be nice, he thinks. He wants nothing more than to be below him, sweaty and flushed and begging, hands tangled in unruly pink hair while Josh leaves sticky lip gloss kisses down his chest and his hips start to m-  
Then there’s hot breath in his ear and cold hands on his waist just as his filthy drunk mind had started to do its magic.

”You belong to anyone?” The voice is gross. Deep and gravely and gross. Tyler curls his lip.

”Yes. Please leave me alone,” He says, before he even sees the ugly mug this dude was sporting.

The hands don’t move but his face gets even closer.  
“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Tyler chews on his lip in annoyance. He’s really trying his best to stay civil. “But I asked you to leave me alone.”

”I think you’re lying,” And now the guy’s coping a feel and Tyler is nearly jumping out of his skin like a frightened cat with hackles raised and tail swishing.  
”Fuck off,” He says and turns around fully. He tries to spit and his face is pushed the other way roughly.

He’d try to fight this dude if he weren’t so small.  
What can he say? He’s an angry kind of drunk.

The attempts at sweet talk the guy is trying to persuade Tyler with make him want to gag.

”C’mon, sweetheart, you don’t mean it.”  
Tyler wants to shrink into his hoodie because there are only a select few people he lets call him that. And this asshole is definitely not one of them.

”Get th’fuck away from me,” He snaps.  
“I _do_ have a boyfriend, and he’ll kick your ass.” Great. Now he sounds like a whiny brat with an imaginary boyfriend who will save the day.

”Cunt,” The man hisses at him. He shakes his head and laughs. Tyler glares and finds every inch of the courage he barely has inside of him.

Then it’s the usual mantra of, ”I’m gonna treat you real nice, pretty boy, better than him,” before he’s dragged off into isolation, except this time he doesn’t like this. He’s not stupid happy and hanging off his flame for the night.  
No one notices his struggle.

”Get away f’me-Josh!” He tries to call out, but his voice is but one of the dozens much, much louder than him.

He’s never even seen this dude before; maybe it’s because he’s so hammered he can’t see straight and it’s near darkness in the bar. All red lights and strobes, he’s yanked unwillingly until the familiar tiled wall meets his face and he’s yelling.

This can’t be happening, his brain says over and over.

His hands are bunched at the wrists behind his back by rough fingers. He can already feel the bruises start to blossom.  
His legs are nudged apart and his drunken haze of a brain is still smart enough to set off alarms.  
Stupid, he thinks. He should’ve just stayed with Josh.

”Wh-stop, please, fucking _stop_ ,” He gurgles, shoulders arching in a desperate attempt to fend off from greedy hands. An unfamiliar voice tells him to shut the hell up and there’s an elbow in his back keeping him from moving.  
_Shit, it’s really happening and it’s not even his fault._

He doesn’t want it. He hasn’t felt this way since high school.  
His stomach drops and he feels like throwing up.

He hears a zipper and a chuckle and he’s still trying so hard to fight.

”St- _Stop_ ,” He writhes and hits with whatever strength he has left because he’s been sobered up in the slightest and he’s _crying_.  
All he can think about is how many times he’d been through this, how his mind screamed at him to yell for help.

He tries now, feeble and cracked and so full of the wrong kind of emotion he feels like he’d rather die than be here.

His ears register the word _bitch_ and he’s wobbling on weak knees. He stares down and tears slip down until they hit the floor.  
There are fingers that taste like cigarettes being shoved into his mouth and he truly thinks this is it.

There has to be someone. Someone who can hear him, who needs to walk in at just the right time because his jeans are at his thighs and he’s bracing himself for the pain. His nails dig into his palms and he says how much he does not want this.

He gets told he does want this, and it echoes through his memories.

He chokes and spits on calloused fingers and dry heaves when they’re gone and he’s fully exposed. He tries so hard to inch away, to slip out of this grasp.

 _Stop_ is the only thing on his lips when the bathroom door creaks open, and Tyler’s true savior questions his name.

”Tyler? Are you in here?”

He’s screaming before a hand is clamped around his mouth.  
“Yes! _Help_ , Josh, oh my g-“

He’s half naked and dirty and when Josh opens the stall and Mystery Man is gone with rough pushes and quick feet. Tyler doesn’t even care. He’s crumpled on the floor, broken into a million little pieces that Josh pales at and scrambles to put back together.

It was a horrible end for a birthday party, all in all. Tyler feels bad.

He tells Josh sorry when he’s carrying him home like a child. Josh tells him he’ll have another birthday next year.

•

”Jenna wants to know if you’d like Chinese for dinner.”

He’s so soft. So gentle. He talks as if Tyler were an acquaintance, not a maybe-lover if he just took the chance.  
It’s possible that now just isn’t the right time.

”I’m not hungry, you can pick.” The brunette replies and it’s barely a noise coming from his mouth. He sits on the roof outside of Josh’s window, knees bunched to his chest and sunset shadowing his sunken cheeks.

He’s too closed off, too shrunken and sad. Mark scolded him one night and said that nothing even happened fully and that he needed to just get over it.  
Josh kicked him out of the house.

But he’s right in Tyler’s mind. Nothing happened.  
It’s just the remembrance that hurts.

He likes it on the roof, where the shade cools him in the evening and the sun warms him in the day. He watches cars go by and wonders where they all were when he was laying over their tracks.

Josh tells Tyler he needs to eat and Tyler tells him he’s anorexic without second thought. It’s a good excuse.

If heartbreak had a form, Tyler would fit the mold.

Josh is having a hard time breaking through it.

•

Tyler lays in the road a lot more. Jenna doesn’t yell at him.  
She’ll just sigh and let him sleep on her lap while she soothes his sunburns with aloe gel.

He shivers so much. He says the reason he stays out so long is that the only thing that can warm him is the 90 degree asphalt stinging his skin. Josh feels he could change that.

He says he doesn’t care about the birthday party incident anymore and chainsmokes more cigarettes than Josh could ever attempt to.  
He’s hooked back on Xanax and Josh accuses him of using these things as coping mechanisms.

That night, he sleeps on the couch.

•

Tyler lives as a walking mess.  
He’s red, peeling and sunburnt because he chafes his skin against the street and doesn’t bother to help it medically.

It seems Jenna has given up.

Josh is only there to watch, with his sad coffee eyes and pink fingernails and stupid, stupid voice that speaks so soft.

Tyler doesn’t need anyone.

•

”Tyler!” It’s so annoying hearing his name be called from across the street.

”Tyler, if you don’t come inside I’m gonna drag your ass in.”

”’Kay,” Tyler says and keeps staring at the dissipating clouds. He peels off his blistering skin and winces when they weep onto the road.

Josh is stepping outside barefoot with his hands on his hips. He’s been experimenting with makeup lately. Tyler’s been watching him get better and better from a distance.  
Today, he’s done a full face with sunset hues.

”Tyler Robert Joseph, look at me God damn it,” He shouts.

Tyler looks at him and watches his name get formed on rosy red lips. He likes it.

His blackened bare feet scrape on the street when he stretches, back arching in the feline complexity he always wore. Josh blinks false eyelashes and tells him he misses him.

”Come back inside, baby,” He says, and steps out onto sizzling asphalt to kneel beside the brunette. “Jenna said she’s not going to let you live in the house if you’re out here all the time.”

”Jenna isn’t my mom,” Tyler spits onto the ground and takes the cigarette from behind his ear into his mouth. Josh hands him his lighter and pops a bubble with his gum.

”You smell good,” He mumbles through his cig. He blows smoke out the side of his mouth and runs his tongue over his teeth.  
“Tyler,” Josh stares at him.

”Go away,” Tyler spits a piece of tobaco from his tongue. “If you care about me, you’ll let me heal.” He pops his toes and wonders what it’d feel like if he shaved his legs like Josh’s.

”This isn’t healing you, it’s hurting you.”

”It’s whatever the fuck I want it to be for myself,” Tyler snaps. “Go away, Josh. Someone’s probably missing your mouth by now.”

He watches Josh’s face turn into a mask of hurt and he’s finally gone.  
He doesn’t feel bad.

And he’s laying again, splayed out and watching his smoke dance in the thick summer air.

The cicadas stay quiet tonight.

•

”Jenna’s callin’ you.”  
Josh hands Tyler the phone once he’s back inside, skin darkened and scarred from the blisters he popped.

”Hey baby.” He clicks his tongue and leans against the wall, fingers tangling themselves in the cord. He’s always hated the color of their phone.  
Pastel banana yellow, and always filthy.

”Don’t call me that,” Jenna says. “I’m a work right now, because you won’t get out of the fucking street and start doing your part. You don’t have a job. If you don’t help around, your ass is staying on the sidewalk. Understand?”

”Sure.” And Tyler hangs up. He’s going to get an ass chewing for that.  
The phone clicks into place on the wall and he chews on his squashed thumbnail. Josh is watching him with cautious eyes lined with black.

”I’m going to a concert tonight,” He says.  
Tyler shrugs. “‘Kay.”

Josh has a finger curled in a stray hair loose from his bun. “I wanted to know if you’d come with me.”

”As a date?” Tyler chews on the inside of his cheek hard enough to split it open.

”As a friend.” Josh shifts on his feet. “I thought going out somewhere might help you a little. It’s Queen,” He offers.

Tyler feels a smile curve his lips up involuntarily. “Ah yes, the queer band.” He shrugs. “Why not? Sounds fun.”

Josh laughs.

•

Tyler really sees a side of Josh he never has tonight.

First, he pulled him in and completely disregarded their standoff-ish relationship when he was dragging Tyler to the front of the crowd, slipping through bodies until they were only a few rows behind the barricade.

”I didn’t know you liked them this much,” He had yelled over the other voices.  
“Ever since I was little,” Josh tells him.

Then, the band starts and he’s moving, dancing and singing with the words like he was born to.

Tyler nods his head to a few songs he’s heard before but is otherwise a bit too casual. Josh throws his head back and raises a lighter in the air during Love Of My Life. Tyler pretends not to see the tear tracks decorating his cheeks.

 _Love of my life, you’ve hurt me._  
_You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me._  
_Love of my life, can’t you see?_  
_Bring it back, bring it back, don’t take it away from me because you don’t know,_  
_What it means to me._

The beat picks up and he jumps and sways like it never happened. The makeup running down his face in sparkling rivers does nothing to make him look any less beautiful. His body curves fluidly while he laughs along to Killer Queen and Tyler is glad the dark room can cover his blush.

Josh reaches for the band like they’re his savior, pink-tinted lips reciting every word thoughtfully.

_Guaranteed to blow your mind, anytime._

Tyler bites his lip raw.

Josh pulls him in to dance. It’s close and intimate and really, really gay.

_Really_ gay. 

Tyler feels hands on his ass and grinds back onto them, head buzzed with alcohol and second-hand weed smoke. He’s smiling like a kid in a candy store.

Josh holds him back in his embrace, lips just barely tracing along his jawline as they sway to the music. He squeezes Tyler’s hips when the lyric _”Fat bottomed girls, you make the rock ‘n’ world go round,”_ sounds through the speakers. He giggles high in his throat.

There’s speaking coming from the microphone and the man Tyler never knew really existed grins with a pointed finger at their mingling bodies from his place onstage.  
“I think the Freddie guy likes us,” He shouts over the drum solo, slurred and dizzy.

Josh glances up, waves, and kisses Tyler sloppily for the show. He’s sure there’s got to be plastic lipstick all over his mouth but he’s too dazed to care. Some people cheer beside them because apparently, they’re on the big screen.

Josh doesn’t let him go until they can’t breathe. It’s grounding.

The lights swerve in their strobe-like fashion and the music is pounding so loud they can barely hear themselves think but it truly feels as if they’re alone in this moment.

“Good.” And he’s guiding the brunette’s hands to his waist.

Tyler nods like a dummy. “Right.” He’s dazed. “Right.”

They’re just two in two thousand, yet so, so different.

•

After, they’re stumbling and laughing and _yes_ , kissing. Tyler lets himself relax in Josh’s arms and feels he doesn’t really want to wash the lipstick prints off his neck.

They’re tripping over the threshold of the house when Tyler chokes out _”Fuck me,”_ and Josh is staring at him with blown pupils, nodding.

”Right,” He breathes. “Yeah.”

And Tyler’s walking backwards, hands gripping Josh’s loose tank top so hard he feels he might rip it. He’s picked up and his thighs fit around Josh’s waist like a puzzle piece.

He’s a mess by the time Josh lays him down on the couch, flustered and red and whining like a bratty toddler. He pants and his hips buck up because Josh is nuzzling his way down his body until he’s nosing his t-shirt up with a smile.

”Hurry up, dammit,” Tyler hisses, hands scrabbling to find purchase on anything that could hold him down. Josh snickers at him.

”I must be special,” He drawls, head cocked. One hand fumbles with Tyler’s jeans until they’re around his thighs. “I didn’t even give you so much as a bloody nose and you’re already this excited.”

”Ha ha,” Tyler grumbles, then he’s gasping because Josh is staring up at him with fluttering glitter eyelashes while his tongue laps over the insides of his thighs. He watches bruises get bitten into his soft skin and has to shove a fist in his mouth to stop himself from doing something stupid like screaming or jizzing in his boxers.

”You shaved,” Josh observes.

”Feels nice.” Tyler nods and feels his blush spread down further because his boxers are gone and he’s just too exposed.

”You’re still ‘kay?” He murmurs while he undresses. Tyler follows his every move and nods like a bobblehead.

”Oh,” He bows his legs and his eyes widen when Josh is as naked as him. “Oh.”

Josh shakes his head with his dumb soft smile and dips his head down to make Tyler squeal with his thighs tightened around his face like a chokehold minutes later.  
He’s so debauched already and it’s adorable.

”You do this often?” He asks breathlessly after Josh has pulled away, blinking innocent. The makeup left on his face has no chance, as his eyeliner is nonexistent and blush all too real now. He wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and whatever lipstick was left is now gone.

He raises an eyebrow. “What? Eat ass? Not really, no.”  
Tyler leans his head back and thinks about the dollar-store lipstick that’s probably smeared on his ass now. It’s a weird thought.

”You have condoms?” He asks and breaks the thought bubble surrounding Tyler’s mind.  
He shakes his head. “Don’t want one.”

Josh’s eyes narrow for a second but he nods eventually.  
They’re both dizzy and high on each other. It’s cathartic. They truly can’t get enough of each other and the quiet buzz from the television is the only thing orchestrating their fluid movements.

No one’s home, but they wouldn’t stop even if there was. Tyler’s never felt such a lustful attraction to someone before.  
Must’ve been the music.

”Don’t make fun o’me,” He’s scolding ten minutes later because he’s just choked for the fifth time while trying to go down on Josh.  
He tells him it’s fine, that he doesn’t have to and cards his fingers through his greasy hair.

Tyler swallows, voice cracked and lips covered in pre-come and spit and he’s mad.  
“I just..don’ suck dick a lot, ‘kay?”

 _No,_ the voice in the back of his head says. _You just don’t suck huge dicks that belong to cute boys that make you turn into an embarrassed little teenager._

Josh laughs again and kisses him despite the mess on his mouth.

”Help me up,” The brunette pants, sweaty and wet yet still in his bratty persona. “I’m on top.”

”Whatever you say, chief.” And he’s being hoisted onto Josh’s lap with a squeak. He kisses him slow, arms hooked around his neck lazily.

He returns Josh’s last marks, mouth eager and biting and he gets a little smack on his naked thigh because he’s “gonna make me bleed, sugar.”  
He laughs at the pet name and says maybe later he’ll fulfill that promise.

He spreads his legs, eyes flicking down to line himself up when Josh stops him.

He uses the time to grab a cigarette and lights up, despite the eye rolls he receives.  
“Shut up. Smoking makes me come faster,” He says matter-of-factly and knows he’ll be made fun of for _sure_ later on.

He ignores the last comment made and uses his free hand to reach behind him, then he’s stopped again.

”Wait,” Josh murmurs.

The brunette frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t need prep, dude, I fingered myself like not even a day ag-“  
Josh holds his face and rubs a thumb over his cheek, stopping his speech. “Silly, babe. Just wanted to see you.” He kisses him soft.

Tyler scoffs with the cigarette between his teeth and sits on Josh’s dick.

•

Tyler wakes up sore. And hot.

Josh kisses his shoulders and tells him to go back to sleep.

•

”What’d you do this time?” Josh calls out from his perch on the cement steps of their house.

Tyler wobbles on his unstable feet and spits a mouthful of blood out onto the pavement. “I fought a bouncer!” He yells back. “And lost,” He adds with a giggle.

Josh can only imagine it, the brunette sauntering up to the old speakeasy’s security with his chest puffed out, fists clenched and ready when he gets clocked in the jaw, teeth clacking and tongue bleeding from getting bitten too hard.

He can imagine very movement, where Tyler tries to swing back and gets a steady hand gripping his wrist so hard he can almost _feel_ the bones start to crack and grind beneath the grip.

Tyler’s stumbling down the other side of the street but Josh can see his dick through his jeans and he can’t help but laugh to himself at the shocked looks he must’ve gotten after a swift punch to the nose.

He gushes all over his white tank top, blood clots thick and plenty. His nose is a bit too crooked for comfort and he nearly falls on his face in the middle of the road.

”Y’so funny,” Josh tells him when he finally makes it to their steps, palms rubbing at the finger-shaped bruises gouged into his arms. His eye is swollen to hell and weeps tears over his cheesy grin.

Josh crosses his legs and sits like an innocent darling, lips lined so perfectly with a shade of red that matched Tyler’s wounds to the T. He pokes his tongue between his teeth in a returned smile.

Tyler lolls his head forward and bats his eyelashes. “Wanna fix me up, pretty boy?”

Josh kisses him, blood and spit and all, and helps him inside.

•

Jenna stares at them funny. “So, you’re...dating?”

Tyler shrugs and slides a hand into the back pocket of Josh’s shorts. “Sometimes.”

•

”I think you should get tattoos,” Tyler tells Josh one night.

”Tattoos? What would I get?” He asks, one hand fiddling with his hair while the other works busily underneath Tyler’s shorts.

”Stars,” The brunette breathes. “Every color, everywhere. And a mom tattoo.”  
Josh laughs.

”I want to get one you have,” He says. “The X one, on your arm. I want it behind my ear.”

Tyler nods and comes with a gasp.

•

Josh’s first tattoo is hard.

But eventually he walks with Tyler’s name on his knee, too. And when they’re close, noses touching and bodies clinging with sweat, he likes to brush his fingers over his name buried into the brunette’s thigh.

He’ll get a galaxy next, he thinks.

•

They fuck on the roof the night before August 1st and Tyler yowls so loud he wants the whole neighborhood to know who he’s given himself to.

••

The air has started to cool. Tyler lays in his spot on the street, fingers tangled with another’s.

No one yells at them anymore.

”I don’t see what you like so much about this,” Josh tells him. He shifts his head and looks at the brunette. “My hair’s full of tiny rocks and it hurts everywhere.”

Tyler laughs and rubs his thumb over the skin of Josh’s hand. His nails are painted black. He likes them this way.  
“It makes me feel better sometimes.”

He leaves it at that. They look at the slowly setting sky, and he watches Josh’s eyes widen at the displayed by of color smeared out under the clouds.

”Josh?” He says softly.

Josh drags his gaze away from the sky to meet a pair of chocolate cake eyes.  
“Yes, Tyler?”

”I think I’m gay,” He says it to the sun and waits before returning Josh’s stare. He breathes slow and they blink at each other a few times before Josh nods, with his pink painted fingernails resting upon his bare chest.  
”Me too.”

And they laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for sticking it out on this one my dudes :)  
> this is the longest one shot fic ive ever written, and honestly it was pretty hard to do in a couple parts.  
> i hope you enjoyed it.  
> also sorry im bad at endings ajsjsjs 
> 
> also #2 YES i know freddie mercury didn’t say he had aids until right before he died but i used it for banter


End file.
